


When You're The One Who's Loved

by fishfingersandjellybabies



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:48:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19436131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishfingersandjellybabies/pseuds/fishfingersandjellybabies
Summary: Damian doesn’t understand why Dick is so upset. Tim does, though.





	When You're The One Who's Loved

**Author's Note:**

> If it’s not obvious, Tim and Damian are on pretty good terms here. The box got there so quickly because Dick called Wally, and yeah it probably came from Selina on loan (because Bruce won’t allow it to be permanent of cOURSE probably). When Damian falls asleep, Dick asks Tim wtf Damian was talking about and Tim just said “we talked shit about you while you were gone.” Damian, of course, recovers eventually.
> 
> For @northoftheroad! Thank you a million times over for donating. <3 Their reward request was anything with Dick and Damian.

There was a sharp inhale in the doorway, cutting of his and Tim’s conversation as they both looked over.

“…Oh, great.” Damian droned at the sight of his eldest brother. Dick didn’t react, face already solemn and gray.

And it was probably rude – he of course was thrilled to see Dick. They hadn’t seen each other in months, and contact had been minimal in the in-between.

But he didn’t want Dick to see him like _this_. Confined to a bed due to injury from a recent case. Covered in bandages that kept obnoxiously bleeding through.

 _Weak_ and a _failure_.

Father had promised to keep it a secret. Drake only knew because he was present, was basically the one who saved him. Got him out of the situation and was Alfred’s assistant during the subsequent surgery. Was only here now doing the surgery follow-up, and it just so happened to turn into a personal visit.

Tim stood from his chair. “When’d you get in?”

“Few minutes ago.” Dick murmured, refusing to take his eyes off Damian.

Damian crossed his arms, and couldn’t find it in him to hold the stare. “Who _told_ you?”

“Cass.” Dick returned, just as monotonously, just as blankly. Like he was on complete autopilot. “Said Bruce has emotionally shut down about it, and has buried himself in his work. Said Alfred was worried the operation wouldn’t fix it, and an infection would take hold. Wanted me to come, in case…”

Tim and Damian waited. Tim’s shoulders slumped as Damian demanded, “In case _what_?”

Dick opened his mouth, but whatever the word was, he seemed almost unable to say it, and just began shaking his head instead as he walked forward.

Damian wanted to be annoyed. Wanted to pout and turn his brother away. But…he missed him. Missed his affection. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it – he hurt. His body _hurt_ , and even a quick embrace from his former partner felt like it would just fix _everything_.

Tim stepped out of his way, watching silently as Dick sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped an arm around Damian’s shoulder, basically dragging him protectively into his side.

“How you feeling, kiddo?” Dick whispered into Damian’s hair.

Damian just shrugged, because it all hurt worse than the thing before, and he couldn’t think quick enough to give a lie.

“…So far so good, Dick.” Tim promised. “I know we were…we _are_ all worried, but Damian’s a fighter, and all the things Alfie and I were worried about from the surgery haven’t manifested. Grant it, he’s still under observation for another forty-eight hours, but…I’m feeling good about it.”

Dick nodded silently, just gently rubbing his fingers up and down Damian’s arm. Damian just stared softly up at him.

“Really.” Dick whispered with a careful smile. “How are you feeling, Damian?”

Damian shrugged again. “I hurt. But I guess that happens when they puncture your lung a few times and slash through your aorta.”

Dick’s fingers twitched against his arm almost violently.

“…Anything I can do to help?” Dick hummed as he swallowed the lump in his throat. “Make you feel better?”

“Bring me a basket of kittens.” Damian drawled. He laughed at his own joke, but immediately flinched and clutched his chest.

“Who’d have thought I’d have to tell sour puss Damian Wayne to stop laughing.” Tim snorted himself. “But relax, you’ll tear the stitches.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Damian waved off, trying to look tough. Difficult, when Dick shifted to stand back up, and his face betrayed him by morphing into one of disappointment against his will. “Grayson?”

“I’ll be right back.” Dick sounded distracted as he stepped away. But then he paused, glanced back, gave a tight smile and grabbed Damian’s hand for a moment. “I _will_ be right back.”

Damian and Tim watched as Dick all but ran from the room, pulling a phone from his pocket. Tim sighed and shook his head as he sat back in his chair.

“…What’s his problem?” Damian scoffed nonchalantly, trying to break the mood Dick had left in his wake.

But then Tim looked up at him with curiousness that made him uncomfortable. Nervous.

But then Tim smiled, and leaned back in his chair. “You’re cute.”

Damian scowled. “Excuse me?”

“You’re young and I keep forgetting that, and it’s just so cute how… _naïve_ you are.” Tim laughed. But when the laugh died down, his older brother looked sad. “…Dick loves you.”

“I’m…aware.” Damian hummed. “But that’s got nothing to do with what I asked.”

“It has _everything_ to do with what you asked, actually.” Tim sighed. Crossed his arms. “Dick loves you…more than a lot of things. And seeing you in any way less than okay…messes with him.”

Damian tilted his head.

“And that even counts emotionally, but we’re just as screwed up as you in that department so I guess that’s easier for him to bear.” Tim rambled. “But _physically_ …with these injuries and stuff…well.”

He paused. Damian waited.

“It used to be bad enough because you were a child, and his partner and his responsibility and yada yada.” Tim explained. “But…then you died.”

Another stop, to let that sink in, for the both of them.

“And you didn’t even die like…a simple way. You died in the most _painful_ , heartbreaking way imaginable, so that made it even worse.” Tim winced, remembering the day himself. Remembering the bottom line, that Damian died protecting _Dick_ , and how well Dick _knew_ that, and hated himself for it. “So…he worries. Every cut, every bruise. He worries about people hurting you, because he loves you. But now on top of that, he worries about losing you all over again. And that’s honestly something I don’t think he could handle. He’d…collapse.”

“…He loves and worries for all of us the same.” Damian offered, embarrassed by Tim’s truths. “I’m not special.”

“No, not special. Just different.” Tim agreed. “I’m his brother. Jason’s his brother. You…are _different_. You are his brother…but you’re also so much more than that, to him.” Tim shifted in his chair. “Because I mean, he didn’t raise me. He was never my guardian, legal or otherwise. He’s always been just my brother. But you…blurred a few lines.”

Damian didn’t admit that Dick blurred a few lines for him too, but he had a feeling he didn’t need to.

“And then I think it was just one of those ‘you don’t know what you have until it’s gone’ thing.” Tim sniffed. “And with how much death we’ve all dealt with, you think we’d learn by now but…we don’t. Because we’re all dumb. And so I don’t think he realized or knew just how much he loved you, how _special_ you are to him, until after you were murdered and supposedly gone forever.”

Damian lowered his eyes as Tim spoke, glanced out the window.

“So, to answer your question.” Tim inhaled. “Dick’s problem is that he loves you, and he’s _petrified_ of losing you again. His problem is that, right now, he just got a call from his sister saying you’ve been attacked and left for dead, and might be so before the week is out. He’s _crumbling_ under the idea of that.”

“He shouldn’t.” Damian argued. “I am not worth… _destroying_ himself over.”

“He’d disagree.” Then Tim smiled. “And honestly? I think I would too.”

Damian watched him, then after a moment, huffed, crossing his arms. “Thanks for saving me. I _guess_.”

Tim snorted back, reaching up to ruffle Damian’s hair. “I’ll say you’re welcome when we know you’re in the clear.”

Damian smiled, leaned back in his pillows, watched as Tim picked up his chart again, probably about to do a follow-up to his follow-up, because that was so _him_.

“Please.” He hummed. “It’ll take a lot more than a slashed aorta to keep me do-”

Without warning, there was a sound in the hall. High-pitched and loud. Then repeated. Then again and again, and then suddenly – multiples of the sound, each one going at its own rhythm, overlapping.

Meows.

And not just any meows. This wasn’t the meow of Alfred, deep and sophisticated and lazy. No, these were…

Dick was suddenly in the doorframe again, looking no less ragged than when he’d left ten minutes ago. There was a large cardboard box in his hands, and Damian realized that the sounds he and Tim heard were coming from that box.

Meows.

… _Kitten_ meows.

Dick came across the room silently and without preamble, carefully tipped the box over the bed, dumping the contents onto Damian’s knees.

Five fat little kittens came rolling out, yelling for all the world to hear. Orange, black, tuxedo, tortie and gray, tumbling around in surprise at their new location.

Damian immediately smiled, reaching out to pet the closest babies. They all immediately spotted him and wanted his attention, climbing up his body on tiny, underused legs, wobbling this way and that.

“One basketful of kittens.” Dick murmured breathlessly. “Just as ordered.”

Damian chuckled lightly as the kittens swarmed him. He kept his smile, even as Dick sat next to him, and threw his arm around his shoulders once more. “…Grayson, I was _kidding_.”

“…Feel better?” Dick whispered against his temple anyway as he curled his legs up into the bed, tucking Damian back against his side like it was Damian’s home. But then his already quiet voice trembled, and Damian glanced up at Tim as he spoke. “…Please just tell me you to feel better, kiddo.”

Tim just gave Damian a sad smile that said, _See?_

Damian glanced down at the kittens, their weights not enough to put any pressure on his chest. But he kept his smile as he pet them, as he leaned his head against Dick’s neck and reached up to hold the hand on his shoulder.

“Much better, now that you’ve returned.” Damian promised. A kitten popped up in front of face, and bounced their noses together. Damian laughed, glancing up at Dick. His eyes were tired, with dark circles, and desperate. But he smiled back at Damian in reflex. “And the kittens don’t hurt either.”

Dick laughed and held him a little tighter, kissing a kitten when it reached a paw up to touch his chin.

Damian didn’t mention the shaking of Dick’s fingers. Just as Tim didn’t mention the tear tracks on Dick’s face.

But Damian did glance up at Dick, and watched him for a moment. He squeezed Dick’s hand, while gently petting the smallest feline on his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Grayson.”

Dick’s eyes darted down to him. “Hm?”

“I won’t leave you.” Damian reiterated. “I promise.”

Dick blinked in surprised, and looked over to Tim for explanation. Tim feigned innocence, shrugging.

“So don’t worry about me.” Damian demanded. “Don’t destroy yourself over me either.”

Dick looked back down with a confused smile. But Damian didn’t elaborate, just clung to Dick’s hand, while petting the cats with the other, and using Dick as his own personal pillow.

After a moment, he shook his head and laughed, pecking Damian’s temple and lingering there for just a bit longer than usual.

He was silent, watching Damian play with their guests, smiling and laughing and even downright cooing. Tim eventually joined them on the bed to see the kittens, and Dick purposefully tickled at his stomach with his toes.

But it was when Damian was slowing down, when the kittens were starting to doze off all along his lap, that Dick kissed Damian’s head again, rubbed at his arm, and whispered a quiet, watery and grateful:

“Thank you.”


End file.
